Make it a Double: A Reflection About “Fingers Crossed”
There comes a point near the tail end of a night of drinking, probably when the patrons are gathering their belongings and closing out tabs, that one begins to wean off the frivolity that’s been performed most of the night. In this moment there are often two realizations for the drinker: (1) A displaced moment of clarity about your current station in life, and (2) that this present status is not at all what you thought it would become. It’s not always a depressing epiphany, it simply captures a moment when one feels vulnerable and alive to oneself. The alcohol has kicked in, locked and loaded, and so you become more aware of your inner nature and hidden feelings.
Derek Webb’s new album, Fingers Crossed, feels similarly like a series of revelations post- intoxication. It’s one part snark, two parts personal examination, mixed with dashes of self-referential commentary. But in terms of spiritual and personal crisis, it’s definitely a strong drink.
I’ve tracked Webb since the beginning of his solo career, often paralleling my own experiences with his own battles throughout his litany of albums. His early commentary on western Christianity paved the way toward an exploration of societal issues such as American foreign policy and structural racism, combined with musical experimentation that at times signaled a new path forward and at times was sheer trial and error. His catalog of songs have also featured a liturgy of praise, confrontation, submission, and dereliction of his own duties as a human. While Fingers Crossed at times follows as another domino in the line of existential questioning, there are twists and turns unexpected. The album’s title also speaks to the variety of intentions and expectations one can have in a single act.
Fingers Crossed (Betrayal)
Crossing your fingers can have several meanings. It can act as a sign of hope and good luck, but at times it may signal a betrayal. “The Spirit Bears the Curse” is a prime example of this as Webb sings out a neo-hymn that initially orients the listener to familiar ways of speaking to and about the divine, yet quickly throws us into disorientation as this entire song has been an ode to literal spirits that intoxicate just as much as a mystical experience might. I first heard this song at one of our house concerts*, and I can speak to the silence that followed as the climax of this song was belted out (lyrics above). We as an audience thought we knew the punchline, but instead got a punch in the gut. Our assumptions as an audience are betrayed in that event, and yet that is where vulnerability can be deepened and explored.
Webb has described this album as a tale of two divorces, both vertically and horizontally. The album is about laying bare all that we thought we knew about relationships and realizing that we often fail to pass muster. But the complexity of relationships means that we can be mistreated and hurt compared to what we have dealt out. We feel the betrayal of another’s crossed fingers. In the stripped-down orchestration of “Chasing Empty Mangers”, that loss of connection is painted with Derek drinking alone on Christmas Eve, away from his family and isolated from any divine presence: “…so a toast to all my friends, who are lost and beat and bleeding, still chasing empty mangers out of faith”.
Fingers Crossed (Mercy/ Luck)
The album’s cover is a nod to a specific iconography found in Christianity. Several saints, and even Jesus himself, have been painted at times with their fingers crossed to implore God’s protection.
This protection might be a sincere belief on Webb’s part, or could speak more to why we commonly cross our fingers now as a sign of good luck. That modern-day action may have a connection to a history of hopeful faith, but more truthfully reveals that our doubts hold sway today. The foundations of belief have been shaken by time, experience, and our unanswered questions. All we can do is wish for the best and live as if our lives might have purpose. But while we may be whistling in the dark, our holding on to each other can testify to the beauty that can be found in our lives. In The Braver One (For Joanna), Webb sings: “now it’s my turn to be brave and to believe the things that are so hard to believe, that there is meaning to our days and that I will once again see your face”. That statement is nowhere definitive, but it speaks to hoping against hope that this may all matter in the end. So much of our lives are ill-defined, but clinging to our friends and other loved ones can steady us amidst the chaos.
Fingers Crossed (Fidelity)
An easy construct would be to think of Webb’s spiritual life in a linear trajectory, as an individual going from an oriented faith, digressing into periods of doubt and frustration, then ultimately falling to a vague agnosticism/atheism. But that’s an overly simplistic explanation for a such a complex journey. Instead, like many of us, Webb presents us with a different book in his personal canon, it’s his Ecclesiastes or the anguished Psalms that speak of facing the abyss that often accompanies existence. Derek has already told us his tales of faithfulness and solidarity. But not all stories give structure, peace, and inspiration. Some tales speak to the darker corners and the meaninglessness that we walk through. It may be helpful not to think of Webb landing in these places as much as testifying that walking through the unknown is how many of us survive.
Fingers crossed can also be a promise made between friends. As people we may aspire to live with the best intentions, but our lives don’t navigate unvarnished. Nor are our identities so solidly held; we are a mixed-bag of fidelity and betrayal, we have integrity and are untrustworthy, we clarify and confound all at the same time. We desire to be true and to be loyal, and so a pledge of a promise of devotion speaks both to our willingness to love and be loved, and yet our promise-making signals that those intentions always require accountability. We have been on the flip-side of those pledges and promises as well, so we know deep down how hard it is to keep to our oaths.
The final song off the record is Goodbye, for Now, a somber tune about breaking up. Breaking up with faded notions, old beliefs, and dashed hopes. Much of the song is dour, and yet like a Cormac McCarthy novel, there is a persistent hope that something may bloom out of the ashes of what has been burned down. We don’t know if there can ever be a connection ever again, but a promise can be made to try as much as possible to make it happen.
This is album is not for the faint of heart. At times it is a bitter drink. And though it may not quench the thirst, it is strong enough to keep you going.
*Derek Webb played a Vox Pop show during the summer of 2017
